


no other world but this one

by tarifaaa



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora is soft and pets Catra's ears, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Catra (She-Ra) Acts Like a Cat, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Catra is also soft but also sharp, Corrupted Catra, F/F, Lesbian Adora (She-Ra), Lesbian Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25128238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarifaaa/pseuds/tarifaaa
Summary: Humans endure the present moment, but don’t enjoy it, they’re never comfortable, always adjusting. Adora will shrug out of her jacket five maybe six times a day, run her hands through her hair, and stretch her calves when she should be still. She’s never happy with things as they are. Always seeking, never still. It’ll get her into trouble one day....Catra opens the portal. Alternate version of “Remember” and “The Portal”
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	no other world but this one

**Author's Note:**

> “This is what was bequeathed us”  
> by Gregory Orr
> 
> Listen  
> This is what was bequeathed us:  
> This earth the beloved left  
> And, leaving,  
> Left to us.
> 
> No other world  
> But this one:  
> Willows and the river  
> And the factory  
> With its black smokestacks.
> 
> No other shore, only this bank  
> On which the living gather.
> 
> No meaning but what we find here.  
> No purpose but what we make.
> 
> That, and the beloved’s clear instructions:  
> Turn me into song; sing me awake.

Catra flinches awake. Memories flash—Adora tied to a drainage pipe and the others, silhouettes of disapproval scattered around her; the portal bursting into existence—and she scratches at her face, sobbing in terror. Then the memories disappear. Blitzed from existence.

She lowers her hands and stares at them blankly. Her claws are neatly trimmed. 

“What am I doing?” 

Catra blinks in the dark. She sees six or seven other bunks, a room of orphans. Everyone’s breathing, shifting, dreaming. The space is alive with the hum of heat and energy underneath, connecting them all. _Adora_. Catra cuts her eyes to the mattress.

Adora is sleeping in the same cot. She grits her teeth and balls her hands into fists. Her bare foot dangles off the side, making Catra roll her eyes. Why keep one foot outside the blanket? She’s asked Adora before, never with a real answer—but she thinks she knows. Humans endure the present moment, but don’t enjoy it, they’re never comfortable, always adjusting. Adora will shrug out of her jacket five maybe six times a day, run her hands through her hair, and stretch her calves when she should be still. She’s never happy with things as they are. Always seeking, never still. It’ll get her into trouble one day. 

Catra wraps her tail around Adora’s foot. Lifts her own foot, appreciating the contrast. Adora’s bare feet are wide and knuckled. She loves how they sound on concrete. Rare as it is, since Adora wears her boots so often she sometimes sleeps with them. On those nights, Catra is the one to loosen the laces, pull at the tongue, and slip them off her heel. Adora is helpless. Sometimes she wonders what she would do without her.

At the end of the hall stands an empty room meant for the new Force Captain. Adora or Catra, whomever Shadow Weave chooses to promote. Adora acts humble about her chances but her posture has straightened over the past few weeks. Her shoulders, rolled back and firm, Eyes assured. Catra responded by showing up late all the time. When Shadow Weaver inevitably chooses Adora, she’ll scoff and say, _What, you think I ever wanted that?_ And Adora will feel comfortable. Reassured that it wasn’t Shadow Weaver’s favoritism that got her the job— _Catra doesn’t like to work_. 

It isn’t fair, but she’s made her peace with it. Adora wants this more than she does and she knows she’ll be her second in command. She slinks across the mattress and sits next to Adora’s hip, tail tracing her knee. She crosses a hand over Adora’s waist and leans on it, balancing over her lap. The dark casts Adora in shades of blue. Her dreams play out unseen, marked by the fluttering of eyelids. She fights in her sleep, but Catra suspects her dreams are mostly peaceful. Adora’s version of peace probably looks like exhaustion—body tired and aching, laid out on the grass, recovering her breath.

Adora wakes an hour later, jolting with a scream. Fists swinging.

“Hey, hey!” Catra laughs, swatting at her hands. Adora lands a punch to her jaw. She ducks the next one, swerving to connect eyes. “Adora!” 

“ _Why’d you do it_?”

Adora pushes Catra off her. Brows furrowed. Lips tight. Catra takes in a breath—Adora has never looked at her like this before. A second later, Adora relaxes and sits back on her palms. Her face smooths and she scans the room. 

“What do you think they’ll serve for breakfast?”

“Uh, same as always. Brown ration bar.”

Adora groans. “Would it kill them to only make the gray kind? They have to know that it’s better.”

“But then you’ll have nothing to look forward to,” Catra purrs, then laughs. Adora hesitates, making a sound shy of a laugh.

When their eyes meet, Catra tries to maintain it. But Adora’s jittery when she first wakes up. All rigid energy. Her eyes bounce between Catra’s ears, cheeks, mouth and land somewhere just beyond her eyes. Sharing a bed never used to make Adora uneasy, but these things are meant to fall apart. A Force Captain sleeps alone, lives alone. Whatever. Adora can sleep alone if she wants, but she’s always the one patting the bed, making a nest, coaxing Catra out of the top bunk. Catra retracts her tail. She wants to hiss, _Stop being so confusing!_

Adora starts pulling on her boots and Catra flattens her ears—would it kill her to just relax? Breakfast isn’t going anywhere. Adora stands and looks down at her, calmer than before. She brushes a finger along the edge of Catra’s ear and twirls a tuft at the end. Catra watches in her periphery, affection twisting inside her.

“So soft,” Adora whispers and leaves.

***

Adora ruins everything. Always moral. Always right. _The world is ending, Catra! I have to save it!_

Maybe the world doesn’t want to be saved, maybe it’s better off without Hordak's war, their war. Maybe it’s beyond their control, whether or not the world ends for them that day. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters. Her and Adora’s lives are a blink of an eye compared to the geologic time of a tree. What would their lives even look like to a stone? To the universe, a stone is a momentary gathering of sand, a kiss. Why should it all matter so much? What matters to Catra, what has always mattered, is making do with the present. 

To Adora, saving the world means leaving. Leave the Horde, leave the portal reality, leave the universe itself. Catra can choose to follow, if she wants. She can always make that choice. But why should she? Adora won't budge an inch for her—won’t relax, won’t accept anything that’s given to her if it isn’t _perfect_. 

When the ground fell beneath her feet, she tried pulling Adora in with her. She clawed her jacket and dragged them both toward that horrible twisting energy, but Adora kicked. And Catra let go in the end. 

But it wasn’t the end. 

Catra floats in midair, watching the world disintegrate around her. Beneath the violent light, she glimpses a shadow dimension where Scorpia and the others had disappeared. Rage swells within her. The world wasn’t even ending. It just changed, like it always would. She starts to sink into the other place, submerging half her face and her side up to her collarbone. The submerged arm transforms, cosmic black, her flesh pulling away to reveal pure energy underneath. She knows the same is happening to her face, and part of her thinks, _OK, I’m ready to go_. But thoughts of Adora keep her out. 

No. Adora doesn’t get to escape.

***

“ _Hey, Adora_ ”

Adora lifts her eyes, staring solemnly. 

“This _is_ what you wanted,” Adora says. “I kept telling myself you didn’t know what you did, or what would happen. You didn’t want to break the world. Maybe you regretted it. But you don’t, do you?” 

“Oh, Adora, none of us knew what would happen. But the portal came into the world, same as the rest of us. Sure, there was some choice. But the potential to exist is always there. It’s not a matter of if, but _when_.”

Catra grabs Adora’s hair, throws her into the Crimson Waste. She jumps onto the bar counter and crouches over her. “You’re the only one too stubborn to see that.”

Adora stares into her eyes, mouth open. 

“Catra, you’re not making any sense.” 

“Have I ever made sense to you?” She asks. Shoves Adora back, forcing her into the water at The Sea Gate. Adora yelps, spitting out salt water and thrashing, desperately trying to keep her head above the surface. Catra pulls her to shore and for a moment Adora lets herself be held in the water, breathing raggedly. 

Adora gasps out a question, but it’s indecipherable. She lets Adora catch her breath. 

Finally, she asks, “How are you doing this?”

“Do you want to find out?” She asks. “I can show you where your friends are.”

Adora shoves free, trying to swim away. Catra dunks her head under water and pulls her onto land in the Northern Reach.

“Catra stop! I need to fix this.”

“The world doesn’t _need_ you to do anything—it’s not like you or me; it simply is.” 

“Ugh!” Adora jumps to her feet, whirling to face Catra. “ _Stop talking like that!_ It doesn’t make any sense.” 

“None of this would have happened if you had just stayed.” 

“Not this again. You know why I left the Horde, I’m not explaining myself again.”

Catra twitches her ear. “Your friends didn’t disappear. They’re in another dimension. They’re fine, and so would you be, if you had just listened to me and stayed when I asked you to. Only reason I’m here is because I chose to stay. I came back for you. Your friends didn’t.” 

Adora pauses, apparently thinking it over.

“I need to shut off the portal, Catra. Maybe you’re right and the other dimension is safe, but we don’t know that for sure. It could collapse next. Nothing is stable.”

Catra growls. “Fine. Have it your way.” 

She takes a deep breath and lunges. But this time Adora’s ready for her. She sidesteps and grabs Catra by the tail with a violent yank. Tears spring to her eyes and the world shifts around them, bringing them to the empty remains of the Whispering Woods. Catra kicks behind her and forces Adora back. They glare at each other and crouch into position.

“Why are you fighting me?” Adora yells. “Don’t you want to live?”

Catra flusters. “How could you know what I want? You’ve never thought to ask.” 

Adora lunges. Catra barely guards a punch to the face, takes a blow to the stomach. She loses ground. Adora kicks her in the kneecap and she yelps, collapsing to the ground. Adora grabs a fistful of her uniform and pulls her up to eye level. Catra widens her eyes, noticing the ferocity in Adora’s stare. Her eyes change color often, shifting from a cloudy grey to powder blue sky. At this moment, they are the color of blue flame.

_You made your choice. Now live with it._

Catra isn’t unconscious when they start falling. She had been aware of Adora’s presence until the end. It wasn’t until Adora said those words that she realized she had never really planned on living with her choice to open the portal. And waking up with Adora beside her in the Fright Zone had been such a rare stroke of good fortune that she let herself believe she never chose death. But there’s no avoiding it now. She had wanted the world wiped clean, along with the pain, the loneliness, and yearning. Her mistakes too. She’d wanted it all gone. 

She won’t be joining the others in the shadow dimension—she chose this world, and she’ll be destroyed with it. Her eyes close. Energy dispersing, that’s what dying feels like. An unmaking. She returns her atoms to the cosmos, hoping their recombination with the world forms something different. Something easier to love. 

  
  


***

“You’re so soft,” Adora whispers, skimming a hand over the fur at the back of Catra’s neck. She lays over Adora’s lap, arms and legs sprawled aimlessly. Adora chuckles and returns the brush to her head. Her mane is not soft at all—it is, in fact, matted—but Adora doesn’t seem to mind. She brushes sweetly, softening whenever she tugs at a tender spot. 

“ _You’re_ soft,” Catra mumbles. “I’m unrelenting.”

Adora makes an _uh-huh_ sound and scratches under Catra’s chin, making her mind go blank. A loud purr vibrates through both their bodies. She keeps brushing.

“How does your hair get like this so quickly? It was so short.” 

Catra can barely hear Adora through her purring. She twitches her ears and mumbles something incomprehensible. Adora tips her head back and laughs. Then she quiets. “I’m going to have to get up eventually. My legs are starting to go numb.”

Catra could stay like this forever. But she sighs. “I know. Just one more minute.”

Adora smiles. “Okay.” 

Catra rolls onto her back, looking up into Adora’s eyes. Her gaze is tender, loving. In a moment, she’ll wake up on the floor of the Fright Zone, surrounded by all the people she’s ever hurt. She’ll look into Adora’s eyes and see nothing but bitterness and grief. It’ll feel like nothing can cut the distance between them. 

But right now she’s somewhere else. Maybe she’s in a dream, or another dimension, or at a different point in time. She takes a deep breath and settles into the moment. Her eyes meet Adora’s for as long as she is able. Until she hears a piercing drone in her ears—the open portal, pulling her back into the world. 

  
  



End file.
